


and there's only memories

by vdova



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Post-Secret Empire (Marvel), we don't like clones in this house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 05:10:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15454041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vdova/pseuds/vdova
Summary: Natasha Romanoff was dead. But the dead don't stay gone long in her line of work.A fix-it fic for Post-Secret Empire/Tales of Suspense.





	and there's only memories

**Author's Note:**

> Check out the AWESOME companion art piece, by meanestaidman on tumblr!  
> https://meanestaidman.tumblr.com/post/176442163131/yall-this-is-my-contribution-for-the-buckynat

Natasha had grown accustomed to darkness.

The idea of an afterlife had never occurred to her. The thought of peace, an eternal silence, a world where she would never be called upon again to fight her loved ones or rivals that barely knew her… now that sounded like heaven to her.

She knew she was running to her death when she tried to intercept Miles from his own stupid decision. Better to lay her life down than for the child to become a murderer. Better to use her life to teach a lesson than to watch the boy become exactly who she had been forced to become.

There was pain.

Then there was nothing.

Natasha’s next conscious thought was of something whirring near the left side of her head. She tried to open her eyes, but found herself unable. Like they were taped closed or held together with industrial clamps. Or like they didn’t-

“Hell, brain activity. Hit her with another dose of-” the voice was garbled and disjointed. Natasha was vaguely aware that the voice was speaking Russian. She couldn’t tell who it was. But the voice started to fade and so did her thoughts, and she fell back unconscious.

The next time Natasha woke up, she understood that her eyes were open before anything else. Her position was awkward and assumed that of a prisoner, on a bed that was in a standing position, giving her a nice view of the entire room. The room around her was a shiny metal of some kind, with a sheen that gave Natasha the impression of a medical lab. Or somewhere experiments were conducted. Her brain function was severely delayed, but there were still a few pieces clicking together. The way the floor slanted, the specific screws used in the single door she can see, the way the lights were dimmed- all of it pointed to the Red Room. Either her efforts to shut down the dark room had been in vain, or there were a few dissenters that had decided to try and follow in Anya’s footsteps. Her question was answered a moment later, however.  Anya herself walked through the door. And she was followed closely by someone Natasha had thought long since dead.

“Yelena?” the name sounded like sandpaper coming out of Natasha’s mouth. Coming back from the brink of death was hard on her body, apparently. Not that she’d ever had the honor of doing just that. The blonde laughed at the weak state Natasha’s voice came in, a smile gracing Anya’s face.

The rest of the room finally crashed into Natasha’s purview. The edging in the room was wrong, and the drain she could see from her position wasn’t correct. She’d cleaned blood out of enough of the copper grates to know better. Her eyes trailed back to Anya and Yelena, attempting to shoot daggers at the girls in her weakened state. “This is a surprise,” Anya said in a sing song voice, arm looped around Yelena’s shoulder like they were old friends. As if the pair hadn’t been at odds for Natasha’s attention during their training days. “She still recognizes you. As if she even bothered to check if you were actually dead.”

“As if she cared about anyone besides herself,” Yelena said, her own posture stiff. Right, so Anya was the one trying to befriend Yelena and it wasn’t reciprocated. Of course her attention shifted to another Widow once the real one beat her down a few pegs. A small smile flitted across Natasha’s face that Yelena clearly caught. “What’s so funny, Romanova?” the blonde hissed.

Natasha knew she could respond, but decided against it. Silence was almost a greater force than speech when people like Yelena were involved. The barely contained rage behind the blonde’s eyes grew the smile on Natasha’s face until Anya noticed. She had a more direct way of getting the look to stop. Anya’s hand moved lighting face, striking across Natasha’s jaw, hard enough that it was sure to bruise, “I’ll give you something to smile about if you keep that up.” The threat would normally sound empty to Natasha, but there was a fire in Anya’s eyes that caused the look to stay gone for a moment. Something had happened between Anya escaping SHIELD custody and finding Natasha; that much was clear.

Satisfied that Natasha wasn’t about to mouth off anytime soon, Anya took a step back from the restrained Widow. “Good. Now that I have your attention, we’d like a word with you.”

 _As if I have anywhere else to go_ Natasha wanted to snap back, but she simply closed her mouth and nodded sharply. The quicker they get their showboating out of their systems, the sooner Natasha could move on to getting the hell out. There was a world outside that door that needed to know she wasn’t actually dead.

Anya must have caught on to Natasha’s boredom, since her hand struck another blow against her jaw, this time on the other side. “We’d like your undivided attention, Natalia.”

The tone in Anya’s voice was starting to make Natasha worry. There was something almost childish about it, but not in the naïve way she’d had during the confrontation about the dark room. This was a woman who had failed in her mission to unseat her idol, whose mother killed herself to keep secrets, who failed her country and had nothing to show for it. Anya had become a woman with nothing to lose in the face of failure. The world thought Yelena was a dead traitor. Natasha’s lips pursed tight as she looked between the women. There was nothing stopping them from slicing her throat and leaving her to bleed out. In fact, there was likely no one else in the world who wanted her dead more. Save for maybe the man that had nearly succeeded in actually killing her. Another loose end for her to tie up once she got away.

“I’m assuming this has something to do with your dark room,” Natasha finally responded. She realized they were likely waiting for some inkling from her that she was actually paying attention. Her eyes stared directly into Anya’s, a pointed effort to ignore Yelena. She could pit the women against each other if nothing else. “I didn’t bother tracking you down when I was informed you got out. Figured you’d wander back to Russia to lick your wounds.”

“And recruit more girls,” Anya boasted, chin tilting back in the arrogant expression Natasha had come to hate from people like her. “You only delayed my efforts. There will always be Red Room sympathizers left in the world, you know. The well of people that despise you runs deep.”

Natasha eyes shifted to Yelena at that. Ah. She wouldn’t be surprised if the blonde had something to do with ‘those that despised’, given their history. “And what lies have you been telling people, little one?” her brain function was starting to return in full force. The delayed thrum of injury was starting to fade into the background. Whoever had restrained her hadn’t done a very good job of it. Anya, likely, judging by how terrible she’d been at tying knots. She was at a disadvantage with her wrists bound in ropes, but the binds on her ankles weren’t nearly as tight. It likely meant she’d been wearing something bulkier at some point and they’d forgotten to retighten her restraints. Whatever worked in her favor.

The diminutive nickname was just the distraction Natasha needed. The red hot anger kicked up behind Yelena’s eyes, like Natasha knew it would. “None of your concern. If you put one more toe out of line-” the blonde lunged for Natasha as if threatening her was the best idea, and received a hard kick to the gut for her troubles. Anya made a wild grab for Natasha’s leg, getting a kick to the side of her head with her other, now free, foot. It only took a brief struggle for Natasha to subdue her captors and free herself in the process. To add insult to the injury of getting beat yet again, Natasha tied the unconscious women’s left wrists together and tied their right wrists to the thing they’d had Natasha attached to.

Then came the actually hard part of escaping: getting out.

The first hallway Natasha travelled down gave her zero clues to where she was. The next told her she was underground, and the next shifted into a familiar texture. The dark, rusted metals and oddly distorted walls had Natasha’s heart hammering a mile a minute. She’d been to this place, once, not long after joining the Red Room. They shipped the trainees out to show them what could become of those that were caught breaking rules.

_“If anyone found out about us… we’d be sent to Siberia, or worse.”_

Love was for children. They'd said it like a mantra. _Love is for children_ , and there were no children in the Red Room. The youngest they’d ever taken had been 17 at the time, and she failed out in two weeks. They needed fighters, not children. Natasha had never thought of herself as a child, not for a moment. Her younger years had been spent barely surviving, never realizing that it was all training for the hell Ivan would force her into. She was a widow with a dead child when she was 16; a hardened fighter before she was an adult. A closed off woman before she met James.

How ironic, for her to wake up in the very location they should have been sent after being caught. But what use was a brain washed assassin and the world’s best spy when they were in cold storage? It’d been easier for the Red Room to wipe their memories of one another and separate them.

Natasha knew she should’ve found the Siberia bunker on her own and destroyed it after joining SHIELD. It wouldn’t have been hard; according to one of her trainers, the place predated the Red Room itself. It wasn’t built to withhold hard bombings. The facility apparently hadn’t gone down with the mother ship by the looks of it. The area she was making her way through showed signs of wear, but more in the ‘not been cleaned in a couple years’ way, as opposed to the ‘gathering dust and dead bodies’ kind of way.

In the end, the location was good news for her. Another left and a quick lock pick put Natasha into the garage. Most of the flight capable vehicles were falling apart or broken beyond repair. It took about twenty minutes for Natasha to find a weapons transport vehicle that seemed to have all its parts, and another thirty to get the thing started. Finally, after being underground for far too long, she crashed through the latch at the top of the hill and hit the freezing cold Siberian air.

Even with a full tank of gas, Natasha had to think of some way to get to civilization. The facility was specifically set far away from people, to keep the questions down about what exactly it was. The exterior was that of a hunting shack, but the mess Natasha just left behind wasn’t as subtle. As if right on cue, it started to snow. She breathed a sigh of relief; it was an easy enough way to hide her tracks.

It took about two hours of driving until Natasha caught a land mark that she recognized. Granted, it’d been decades since she’d been through the area, but it was nice to see the same ruined house that had doubled as a way station for assets using ground transportation. She pulled up about a hundred feet from the house for safety reasons. The bunker had looked too used for her liking. More likely, however, a family of bears had taken up residence in the building now missing part of a wall.

After finding a gun in the glove compartment and loading it, Natasha slowly crept out of the truck and started towards the house. The wind wasn’t as sharp as she was expecting. Which meant it was likely spring. Considering that she’d ‘died’ in August, it was a scary prospect to deal with. Which she would have to do once she wasn’t in danger in a country that still wanted her dead. She caught movement beyond one of the intact windows _. It could be bears,_ she thought to herself, raising her gun and crouching lower to the ground.

She got to the front wall without getting shot, so the idea of wild animals was starting to seem a little more likely. Then she heard the faint, but distinct, sound of a clip being loaded into a pistol. Natasha knew the sound well. There was a distinct catch that had haunted her dreams years prior. It was a regulation pistol for the Red Room trainers and guards. Natasha pushed the fur lined hood of her coat back and tugged off her sunglasses. She was about to walk into a fire fight.

The door was kicked open before Natasha could even really start to stand up. The person moved in a fluid motion, dodging the two bullets Natasha was able to get off before she was tackled and thrown back into the snow, pinned down by a force stronger than she was anticipating. Her right hand flailed wildly for her pistol, but a panted, “Natalia?” caused her blood to run cold.

There, pinning her to the snow, was someone she had not been expecting to see for a long time.

“I thought you were dead!” Natasha and Bucky said in tandem.

A beat, then another, and finally Bucky pulled back and sat on his heels. He looked considerably worse for wear than the last time she’d seen him, with darker bags under his eyes and a longer, messier hair style than she’d seen on him in ages, but he still looked like the James she’d parted ways with after their trip to the moon. She could also tell he didn’t believe his eyes in the moment. And she couldn’t blame him one bit.

“I thought Zemo blew you up again,” Natasha started, propping herself up on her elbows. His caution was warranted, but it didn’t hurt any less. “Kept hoping you’d show up one day and berate how I was training the kids. Where were you?”

“With Namor.” At least his response was quick, though his eyes still had a level of mistrust in this. “He drug me out of the ocean. But by the time I resurfaced, you were already dead. Clint said you died to save one of the kids. He gave you a nice funeral. Not enough booze, if you ask me.”

There was a nudge at the back of Natasha’s mind, a conversation the pair had once had while watching the news. About Natasha promising to fake her death once so they could both attend in disguise and see how it was. “Then I wish I’d been there with you. But Yelena and Anya had me holed up in the Siberian base. I just woke up today.”

That seemed to nudge Bucky in the right direction of trust. His arms swooped down and pulled Natasha into a tight hug, and he started peppering her face and head with kisses. She felt the first tear land on her head before he spoke, voice cracking with effort, “I never thought I was going to see you again.”

“I know,” her own voice wasn’t much stronger, arms instinctively wrapping around his waist to hold him close. “I only did what I thought you would do in the situation.”

“So of course you got yourself killed in the process,” he said with a dark laugh. They took after each other more than he was really willing to admit. If only Natasha hadn’t picked up on Bucky’s self-sacrificing habits that gave the rest of his friends heart attacks on the regular. Especially since he had to fake his death for various reasons.

Natasha wasn’t exactly smiling at the bad joke, however. Her face stayed buried against Bucky’s chest, a soft sigh her only response. It took him pulling back to catch the look of confliction on her face. “We’re sitting in the god damn snow outside of a dilapidated Red Room safe house, talking about your tendency to wind up dead. Doesn’t this feel a little weird to you?”

Bucky opened and closed his mouth a couple times, rolling his lips together before nodding slowly. “It felt too easy getting away from them, didn’t it?”

“Like they wanted me to get away.” Natasha had to air of over confidence about her own abilities. One on one, she could easily beat Anya and Yelena without any issues. But taking them both by surprise in the same instance? And the shoddy rope tying? And now her current situation with the person clutching her to his chest like she was going to float away without an anchor? It felt surreal. In the ‘someone is about to get shot’ kind of way. Natasha tugged back a bit to uncurl herself from Bucky, glancing around their surroundings. There wasn’t any glaringly obvious things out of place, but then that was part of her training. To spot the details. Like how the shadows looked a little off.

And then the truck Natasha had stolen blew up.

She’d parked it far enough from the safe house that it didn’t cause any issues, but the two figures that came barreling out of the ensuing smoke and debris were still a concern. The now very pissed off women immediately went for Natasha, ignoring the baffled Bucky who took a moment to pull a knife out. Natasha got off one, two, three shots, but all of them hit trees, giving her reason to throw the gun away and go for Yelena’s throat. Yelena was the most dangerous of the pair. While Anya had been trained in newer methods of fighting, Yelena had the advantage of 20 years of anger and scorn building up. Anya might have learned to hate Natasha after years of the Headmistresses raising Natasha over her own daughter, but Yelena had the advantage of being physically beaten time and time again.

Natasha barely had one hand around Yelena’s throat before Yelena buried a knife in Natasha’s arm. She let out a sharp cry, giving Anya a chance to drag her off and pitch her against one of the nearby trees. Natasha’s mind travelled to the first with Anya, where Bucky had her back before dragging her off to see Nick. The different was the two pseudo-Widows had no idea what they were doing. Not as a team. Anya tried to follow after her, but Yelena had recovered and went in at the same angle. The two hits shoulders and staggered, giving Bucky enough time to grab Yelena’s arm and swing her around and against the house. Anya’s attention was pulled at the movement, which gave Natasha a chance to shove Anya into the snow face first. The momentary moment of peace saw Natasha pulling a knife out and pressing it against Anya’s neck. Bucky turned with a thrashing Yelena in his arms, almost mystified by what he saw. It wasn’t Natasha sitting in the snow with a knife to a pest’s neck. It was Natalia, the original Black Widow, about ready to behead someone without an ounce of care. He’d seen it too many times during their time together in the past. “Tasha,” he said softly, voice low and gravelly, “Don’t do something you’re going to regret.”

Bucky wasn’t sure if it was the tone or the nickname, but Natasha snapped out of her stupor and looked up at him with a wide eyed expression he had hoped to never see again. “I don’t know how they brought me back,” she said plainly. Apparently her curiosity about the situation was what grounded her back to reality. Anya attempted to take the distraction as an out, but Natasha just slammed the girl’s head against the ground and dropped her like a sack of potatoes. It was more brutal than necessary, but at least Anya was still breathing. When Natasha’s eyes flipped to bore into Yelena’s, the blonde went stark still in Bucky’s arms. “Since you’re still conscious, I have a couple questions for you,” the voice coming from Natasha was a weird mishmash of different personalities Bucky had heard over the years, making his blood run cold.

He was starting to worry about where Natasha’s soul had spent the last seven months.

Natasha plucked Yelena’s knife up off the snow and wiped the blade against her coat. The wound on Natasha’s arm was starting to heal already, but the stream of red was a menacing look all its own. Before the knife even pressed against Yelena’s throat, her mouth was open and giving up exactly what Natasha wanted. “The Red Room’s gone. You and your little friends saw to that a few years ago, even though Alexei tried his hand at stopping you. But Anya’s Dark Room was only delayed when you took her students.” Natasha’s eyes narrowed, enough that Bucky reached up to grip her shoulder. She could rip out of his grip in a heartbeat; that she doesn’t gave him a moment of hope. “She found me. What was left of me, anyways, in your SHIELD storage. Brought me back the way we brought back you. The tech was developed to interrogate assets that had been pushed too far. The intent was to kill them immediately after; I was the first that the tech kept alive longer than a few minutes. You’re the second.”

The answer didn’t give Natasha what she wants. ‘Mysterious tech’ wasn’t anything she could work with, but she still sat back and stared down at Yelena. “James,” her voice was deep and rough, “I’m assuming you’re in contact with SHIELD. Let them know you have a couple escaped prisoners they’d like back. And don’t let them know I’m here.” Her eyes never left the blonde.

Bucky took a moment to assess the situation before nodding slowly. “Of course. Anything for you, Natalia.” He stepped away for a moment, never taking his eyes off Natasha. It would only take a split second for her to slit Yelena’s throat. They were like a painting while he called in the issue. No one moved; he wasn’t even sure if they were breathing until he returned to her side. “Transport should be here in ten minutes. I’m assuming you’ll want to make yourself scarce.”

Natasha finally moved and nodded slowly. In a flash, she had a hand in Yelena’s hair and dragged their faces close together. “I know this won’t be the last time we see each other. I’m not naïve. But you are if you think things are going to change because you will them to. You will never beat me if you continue thinking there’s nothing wrong with you, little one. Grow from this.” She gave a beat, before knocking Yelena out the same way she’d knocked Anya.

Natasha disappeared into the house before SHIELD transport was even in the air space. They didn’t ask questions, as per usual. Just gave Bucky a short nod as they loaded the women up and told him to send in a mission brief later. Bucky was about to tell the team he had something to take care of to duck back into the house when he noticed a flash of red dodging onto the transport.

“Barnes?” one of the agents asked, stopping when they realized he wasn’t following.

“Nothing. Yes, I’m ready to go.” Bucky couldn’t help but smile.

He wasn’t sure where Natasha was hiding on the jet, wasn’t even sure when she got off. Bucky had quit really worrying about her at this point. Apparently, it took more than even getting her neck snapped to stop her. So when he got home that evening and flicked his light on, seeing the red head curled up and half asleep in his living room barely phased him. “Tasha?” he said quietly in case she was awake. Her head snapped up and she blinked at him with a smile, uncurling herself from her current pose. It took him back to a moment in the Red Room. He’d returned to his room after seeing to the assassination of a visiting dignitary. Natasha had been curled up on the bed like a cat, and barely stirred when he curled around her. This Natasha, though, had something he needed to see to. “Let me see your arm.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but one look from Bucky made her grit her teeth and sigh. Without another word, she peeled her sleeve off to expose the skin. The wound wasn’t as bad as he’d thought. The widow serum had heeled at least the deepest part of the wound, so it wouldn’t need stitches. A quick cleanup and a band-aid was all the wound needed. But it didn’t stop him from dropping a kiss to her shoulder and hovering close. Years apart, and he had so many things on his mind that he couldn’t get out. “Natalia,” he murmured, but the rest of his sentence was cut off by her lips on his. Five years apart had certainly put a space between the two of them. Even the small reunion on the moon hadn’t been enough. But her was kissing him with more passion than he’d felt in his frozen heart since Leo got involved in their lives. She wasn’t behaving the way she should be, he didn’t trust Yelena’s answer for how Natasha was alive again, and he had other unfinished business. But Natasha was kissing him like her life depended on it. Maybe it did. Maybe there was something going on that they needed to talk about.

But Bucky was a man possessed, and that was the only thing on his mind while he scrambled to get Natasha’s clothing off.

They didn’t fit together like they used to. His hands kept sliding off her back. Her fingers got tangled in his hair a couple times. Eventually, Bucky gave up on their current position of the couch. He hoisted Natasha up and carried her off to the bed, like they’d done countless times before. Before someone impersonating his best friend showed up in their live and made everything go to shit.

The thought of the fake Steve made Bucky’s blood boil. Of course he just got locked up like nothing was wrong. Why couldn’t they execute someone like they used to? His lips found Natasha’s neck as they fell back on the bed. There was no lasting mark of what had caused her death, but hell if he wasn’t going to kiss the skin there until he felt better. He knew that something dark was fueling him, but he also knew something dark had brought Natasha back to him. They’d never operated in the light; it wasn’t where they belonged. His teeth sank into her neck in an oddly possessive move, bringing a soft whine from Natasha in response. This wasn’t about anyone else. It was about them.

His flesh hand shifted from her hip to press gently against her clit, pulling soft noises of pleasure from her. It was more than enough to distract him from the terrible thoughts swirling around in his mind. The only prevailing idea was that he had to make Natasha feel better, making himself feel better in the process. The first time she came around his fingers, it was almost too much for him. Years apart, and the reunion was making him just as emotional as he’d originally thought.

They didn’t stop until both were exhausted messes, Natasha curled up against Bucky’s side like they used to be. It almost felt like the old days. But a few minutes passed, and a deep sigh passed Bucky’s lips. Natasha sat up a few inches to look down at him, “What is it?”

“Do you know what happened after you died?” he asked softly, a hand shifting to mindlessly brush through her hair. Natasha shook her head. “The details aren’t important, but the fake Steve wasn’t executed. SHIELD is keeping him somewhere. The world tried to pick up the pieces. Yet I feel like I can’t move on without him still breathing.”

Natasha was quiet for a moment before leaning down to press a kiss to Bucky’s forehead. “I’ve been alive in a world that thinks I’m dead for months. I’ve always thought about faking my death, since it worked so well for you. No one is looking for me.” Her lips pursed for a moment before turning into a smile. “No one will be expecting me to go after this man.”

It took Bucky a moment to catch up to the grin on Natasha’s face. She’d always been a step above him with the quick plans, anyways. “I can figure out where he is quickly enough. You up for a welcome home mission, Natalia?”

She leaned down to kiss him gently. “Of course I am, James.”

The plan wasn’t as complicated as things had been in the past. Bucky utilized a number of contacts he still had to get in the facility without many issues. The only real resistance they were met with were hydra loyalists.

Bucky and Natasha might have had issues previously falling into their old routine, but it wasn’t nearly an issue this time around. A short fight ensued, which saw the newly reunited pair still standing over a collection of bodies. “You haven’t lost your touch, at least,” Bucky quipped, brushing some dust off Natasha’s shoulder.

“It’s only been a couple days for me, remember?” she shot back, elbowing Bucky in the side to prove a point.

The joking air died when they approached the imposter’s cell. When Bucky started picking the electronic lock, a laugh erupted inside the cell. Natasha’s eyes flicked up to the small window in the door to see the horrible looking man that had ended her life. “And here I was hoping you’d be sleeping,” she murmured quietly.

“And I’m glad I’m not,” came the reply, “I’m glad you’re up and walking, Natasha. I-”

“ _Don’t say her fucking name_ ,” Bucky cut in, his voice dropping three octaves. Natasha almost jumped at the tone and how unfamiliar it was. The protective edge was back in full force. “And shut _up_.”

Natasha leaned a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and looked back up at the imposter. “No thanks to you. You really thought you could keep me dead?”

Before the prisoner could respond, the door beeped and clicked open. Bucky stood back up next to Natasha to face her murderer. He was mercifully still chained to the floor and looked like shit; this made Natasha smile.

She had thoughts, of course. Telling him that he was always going to end up like this. Saying that he was just a blip on her radar. Grinning and talking about how the world is recovering. But she didn’t. None of that would satisfy her. With a quick glance at Bucky, Natasha took the three steps to close the distance between them and glared down at the man. He started to say something, but he barely got a syllable out before she snapped his neck in one go.

Bucky flinched. He didn’t want to. The imagery was a little too close to home. A minute passed before Natasha looked back up and nodded at Bucky. “Lighter, if you would. I don’t want this nazi bastard coming back.”

The body was still smoldering when the pair made their escape. They only stayed long enough to make sure the body was unrecognizable, and they didn’t stop moving until they were outside the perimeter.

Natasha paused and turned around to watch the scramble. Her face was an unreadable mess of emotions. Bucky reached up and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, tugging her closer. “He can’t hurt you any longer,” he murmured.

“He’ll always hurt me still,” she responded. There was no malice in her voice; only truth. “He killed me, James. He took months away from me. Put me in the hands on Yelena and Anya. But he won’t hurt anyone else.” She was quiet before looking back up at Bucky. “But I think I’m ready to move on.”

He smiled softly at her, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Where to next?”

She grinned as he pulled away, “Anywhere we want. We’re dead, remember?”

**Author's Note:**

> I fully expected to post this after, in canon, Nat, Bucky, and Frank had killed Stevil. I'm both glad and disappointed that hasn't happened yet.


End file.
